A Shadowed Hero
by flyingpandies
Summary: America is kidnapped by a demon who plans to make him his bride. England, with the help of the fellow nations, embark on a quest to rescue him before it is too late and he is trapped in Hell forever. Rated M for possible saucy content in future chapters. Pairings inside.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everybody! As some of you may know, I decided to start this story over so here's the revamped version! The prologue is relatively the same, but I assure you that the rest is going to be different. (And by the rest I mean that one other chapter I posted, haha). I just want to give a special thanks to 91RedRoses for the editing and thanks to my friend who read it over for me afterwards. You both are awesome ;w;

Also, for those of you who don't know, the pairings will be: UkUs and Onesided!Devil!Al/America. Woo, that's a mouthful. This may or may not include side pairings. We'll just let the story decide that c; Annnnnnd I'll stop rambling now! Hope you enjoy :3

* * *

America walked through the streets of New York, slurping away at his large cup of soda while clutching his dinner, which was hidden inside an overly large McDonald's bag. He walked at a slower pace than usual, enjoying the cool night's air blowing against his face. He loved nights like this. Other than the hustle and bustle of the city, everything was cool, calm, collected.

And America was at ease.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, he was caught up on all of his work. The next world meeting wasn't for another two weeks or so, giving him enough time to get everything situated for the other nations' arrival as well as relax. Maybe he could finally get around to playing those video games that Japan sent him a few weeks prior.

America turned the corner, making his way down a long alleyway. He wasn't too worried about what may lurk within the grimly lit street considering that the only thing that would really be a threat was a human, which he knew he could easily overpower given his superhuman strength. Besides, he'd been down this way numerous of times as a shortcut and nothing bad ever happened.

He began humming a little tune to himself, loosely swinging his arm holding the bag back and forth in a childlike manner. He was completely unaware of a strange figure perched upon a rooftop watching him intently.

Icy blue eyes observed the seemingly upbeat man below, a malicious grin stretching across his unusually pale face. Short, pointy fangs glistened from the moonlight as they were revealed. A long, black tail swung lazily behind him as he studied the other practically skipping down the vacant alley.

He narrowed his eyes and stood up, deciding that he wanted a closer look at this human.

He stretched his wings—big, black bat-like wings—, which were cramped up from being curled about his body, before they began flapping rapidly and silently, sending him straight into the air.

America stopped and suddenly felt chilled, feeling as if somebody was watching him. He glanced back, quickly, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Pulling his beloved bomber jacket closer to his frame, America told himself that it was just his imagination. Regardless if he could defend himself or not, the mere idea of somebody watching him freaked him out—most likely due to his horror movie obsession—but he chided himself not to think about that at the moment.

He began to walk a bit quicker than his current pace so he could get out of the alleyway faster. His cheerful humming was gone, and his heart thumped quicker and quicker in his chest, and his breath came shorter and shorter to match his faster and faster pace. He was almost at the end. He could see the dim lights of neon signs, of safety, coming closer. America occasionally looked behind him to ensure that nobody was following him and let out a sigh of relief when that feeling of dread washed away.

BANG!

The loud noise echoed through the quiet alley, causing Alfred to let out a small scream and nearly jump out of his skin. His breathing heavy, his eyes dilated and darted back and forth as the banging noise sounded again and his heart hammered against his chest. He squinted to see in the darkness, wondering idly if he even _wanted_ to see what that was. His eyes widened as a large shadowy figure came out from behind a trashcan. The hair on the back of his neck raised as his mind screamed in gibberish panic to _just run, get out of there NOW!_ As it slowly stepped closer, Alfred took steps back, trying to keep a distance between himself and the shadow.

He was about to make a break for it until the owner of the shadow came into view revealing... a cat. America's breath came out in a huge rush that sounded half hysterical and mentally cursed at himself for getting worked up over such a miniscule thing. He stomped his foot down bitterly which startled the feline into a run. He watched its retreating form disappear into the dark and ran a trembling hand down his face, shaking his head slightly.

Silently behind him… the demonic figure landed, ready to pounce.

Before he could turn around to continue walking, he felt himself being pinned to the brick wall behind him, dropping his food and beverage in the process. His head smacked painfully against the concrete wall which made him a bit disoriented. While he was dazed, a hand as cold as ice clamped over his mouth as his wrists were pulled high above his head. He began struggling almost immediately after he regained his composure. Minutes passed and Alfred's struggles began to turn frantic, finding that he was unable to escape the cold grip that this stranger had on him. He let out a frustrated cry as he thrashed about.

The other watched the American with a devious smirk plastered on his face.

Oh, he liked what he saw. The person before him had the most beautifully vibrant blue eyes that he has seen in a long time, much brighter and warmer than his own. His hair was a shiny wheat-blond color with a stubborn little piece sticking up; the demon found it more endearing on the other rather than himself. The warmth radiating off of the sun-kissed skin had him pressing up even closer to the struggling blond, wanting to feel the heat against his cold skin. Another admirable trait that he has come to notice about the man was his strength. He seemed to be a lot stronger than the average human considering the fact that the demon had to use most of his strength to keep the other pinned. Those bright blue eyes locked with his cold blue ones and the struggling slowly came to a halt.

Perhaps he tired himself out? The thought made the creature smirk almost cockily.

America's chest was heaving from the fight he put up to get this creep off of him. He was beyond scared by this point. He knew for a fact that a human could never overpower him, so how come he wasn't free and kicking this person's ass yet?

He finally dared to look at the face of his captor and his eyes widened in shock. It wasn't the fact that the other looked exactly like him, save for the color of his hair, skin, and eyes. No. It was the large, black wings splayed out from behind his back that made Alfred blink several times just to be sure that he wasn't just seeing things. He wasn't. Something caught his eye and he averted his gaze to look at what it was. His widened even farther when he saw a slender tail, pointed at the end, swaying in and out of his view, like a snake about to strike. Black horns were sticking out from his head, albeit they were barely visible because they matched the color of his hair.

This was no human...

Alfred's brain automatically went to one monster that he has seen so many horror movies about- Demon. The creature before him fit the description quite well, much to Alfred's dismay. He began struggling with a new vigor and kicked his legs out blindly, hoping— _praying—_that he could render the demon weak if only for a minute so he could get away.

His prayers were answered as one blessed leg was brought straight up between the monster's legs. Hard.

Icy blue eyes widened comically as he was kicked right in the crotch. He immediately let go of Alfred and dropped to his knees. Demon or not, that still hurts. It was almost as bad as harming their tails. He snarled and glared at the human's retreating form with angry eyes.

America scrambled away from the creature as soon as he got his hands free and broke out in a run not even a moment after. He heard snarling come from behind him, but refused to look back. His footsteps pounded against the concrete floor beneath him, his eyes focused solely at the end of the alley which was getting closer and closer with each passing moment.

He dared to turn back to see if he was being chased and he willed himself to run faster when he saw just how close the demon was to him. America stumbled as he felt something dig into the back of his jacket- almost as if he was going to be grabbed- before what felt like claws swiped down and ripped three long strips into the middle.

Alfred's breathing became ragged, both from lack of air and knowing that that thing was getting closer. Just before he could make it to the safety of the open streets—when had the end of this alley gotten so far away?— he felt himself falling to the earth and a heavy weight pinning him down. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but nothing would come out save for a pathetic, little yelp that was far too quiet to get the attention of another person.

The hand made its way back to his mouth, sharp nails harshly digging into the sides of Alfred's cheeks. He let out a squeak of pain while tears made their way down his face, fear completely taking over. Sobs wracked his body uncontrollably when a deceitfully gentle hand caressed the side of his face before roughly grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. A long, slimy tongue slowly licked the shell of America's ear which made him shiver in disgust at the action.

A pair of lips brought themselves closer to the helpless blond's ear and whispered three little words that made Alfred let out a terror-filled sob.

"_You are mine."_

And without any warning, fangs sunk deeply into his neck. He let out a cry of agony...

...America sprung up from his bed, excessively sweating and hyperventilating. He ran his shaking hands up and down his body before settling his right hand on his neck. He looked around his room and willed himself to calm down. _It was just a nightmare. You're fine. You're fine. _He kept assuring himself. He glanced at the clock, the bright red numbers indicating that it was a little after 3.

He buried his face in his hands until his breathing became normal again. Several minutes later, America slowly got out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. Once inside, he turned the cold water on and looked in the mirror. The reflection revealed his disheveled appearance and he grimaced. He splashed the water on his face to rid it of the dried tears and snot that intermingled with his sweat and wiped it off with a plush towel.

America trudged back over to his bed and tiredly snuggled back under his covers. He grabbed a pillow that was thrown astray, most likely during his nightmare, and held it close to his chest in a comforting manner. Blue eyes slowly slipped closed and he drifted off into a deep slumber several minutes later.

A breeze blew in from the open window, rustling the curtains. Had Alfred been awake, he would have known that he had definitely shut and locked the window beforehand. A voice whispered in the wind.

"_Oh, little human… you __will soon __be mine... Forever!"_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm so so sorry about taking so long to update! I have so many excuses as to why it took so long, but I highly doubt you would want to read through them all. It was mostly school and the dreaded writer's block which sucks when you aren't even that much of a writer to begin with. I sure hope that this chapter was worth the wait, though! If not, then I'm sorry to disappoint :c

I'm currently working on the next chapter, buuuut I can't promise you when it'll be done. All I can say is I hope it doesn't take as long as this one did. 3 months for one chapter? Jeez, I'm a buttface...

Special thanks to 91RedRoses who still beta'd this after all of this time and all of you who reviewed, followed, and favorited! You're all so kind uwu

* * *

Sunlight poured in through the window, illuminating the room with its bright rays. Alfred let out a groan of annoyance when a particularly bright beam of sunshine flitted across his face and danced over his eyes, waking him from his slumber. He turned away from the too bright and put a hand to his forehead, clutching it slightly while clenching his eyes shut in pain.

God, did he have a headache.

Alfred slowly blinked open his sleep-heavy eyes, barely able to keep them open. A heavy hand slammed down on the bedside table, sliding across the cool wooden surface lazily until it came into contact with a pair of metal-framed glasses. Alfred groggily lifted himself up to lean on headboard of his bed, sliding his glasses on in the process. Blue eyes drooped shut before reopening, this time a bit wider. He let out a jaw-cracking yawn and rested his head against the headboard, fingers rubbing at his temples in hopes of relieving the throbbing pain that felt as if a mini construction crew was vigorously working inside of his head.

Why does his head hurt so much? He can't remember having a headache this bad since his last party when an anonymous nation decided that it would be a good idea to spike the drinks. That had to go down as one of the worst mornings in history.

Alfred snapped out of his musings when a cool breeze blew by, making him shudder when it brushed against his bare skin. Eyebrows knitted in confusion when he looked over to the window. Hadn't he shut that the night before? He could've sworn he did...

Alfred begrudgingly got out of bed, swaying slightly on his feet as the headache decided to make itself known again. Dizziness washed over him for a brief moment before he walked over to the window and shut it, securing the lock for good measure. Perhaps he thought that he shut it and it turned out that he didn't? It wouldn't be the first time something like that happened. He decided not to dwell on it much; things slip his mind all the time and this was no exception other than him just being forgetful.

With the window situation fixed, his headache was next. He tiredly trudged into the bathroom and began rummaging through the medicine cabinet above the sink, grabbing a little white bottle that promised relief. He popped a few into his mouth and washed it down with some water from the sink. He just didn't have the energy to walk up and down the stairs for a drink when there was a much easier way to go about it.

What he needed now was to take a nice long shower. And minutes later, he did just that.

Alfred sighed in content once he was done his shower. While it didn't make the headache go away completely, it definitely did help some. He picked out his clothes- black sweatpants and a Captain America shirt- before heading downstairs to start the day. He still needed to make a couple phone calls for the meeting next week and he didn't want to plan anything last minute.

After his shower, the beginning of his day seemed to move by in one big blur. He doesn't even know what he did to waste time the way he did, other than make phone calls for the meeting next week and eat breakfast (or lunch, he should say. It was around noon by the time he decided to make anything for himself). Now lying on the couch, feet lazily propped up on the arm rest and a blanket wrapped around his body like a cocoon, Alfred flipped through the channels on the television, looking for something interesting to watch.

Boring, switch. Boring, switch.

"-and tonight there is a severe thunderstorm warning for the following-" Switch, boring.

America settled for some comedy channel and rested his head against the arm of the couch. Before he knew it, his eyes drooped shut while the TV droned on in the background.

* * *

Rain pelted the earth, sounding more like tiny rocks rather than droplets of water as it battered down on the roof like a hail of bullets. Thunder and lightning mingled in the dark skies above; one booming and cackling, the other blindingly bright. Wind howled and moaned along with the storm, making the house groan and shake with each harsh blow. America subconsciously snuggled deeper into the warmth of the blankets as he continued to smash and bash zombies on the screen into oblivion.

That nap had left America feeling refreshed, his headache completely gone and hopefully never to come back. Typically he used this time to play some mind numbing video games, seeing as he didn't have anything else to do. Sometime during one of his snack breaks (can't play video games without energy food!), however, the aforementioned thunderstorm happened to be hitting where he lived. Not a problem. It wasn't like he had to go out this late anyway.

His hands moved on their own accord, fingers flying across the buttons effortlessly as a hoard of the undead came hurtling toward his character at a rapid pace. His tongue peeked out from behind pink lips in concentration as he leaned forward slightly, eyes focused on both the ballistic corpses that clawed wildly at him and the safe room located several doors down from where he and the other characters were cornered. As the last of the zombies were shot down, America wasted no time in running towards the metal bolted door that would ensure that the round would be over once inside.

Just before he could enter the room, however, the lightning outside suddenly began flashing wildly, the thunder growling loudly alongside it. The lights began flickering with each flash, each waver lasting longer than the last. And with the final flash of lightning, the lights abruptly went out, descending the house into total darkness.

"NOOOOOOO!" Alfred cried as he threw the remote down in irritation. He stared at the now blank screen with a childish pout on his face and crossed his arms. Of course that would be his luck. Now he would have to start all over again and find that stupid safe room again! Why couldn't the lights go out afterhe beat and saved that level?Now there was a problem. Ugh, stupid storm...

_Knock, knock, knock!_

America jumped slightly, the unexpected noise startling him.

_Knock, knock, knock!_

Who the hell would be at the door this late at night while a huge storm raged on outside? They had to be out of their freaking mind! America grabbed his phone from off of the side table and unlocked the screen, squinting when the light hit his sensitive eyes. He hoisted himself up and began walking toward the door, using the phone as a source of light to avoid tripping over anything along the way.

_Knock, knock, knock! Knock, knock, knock!_

"Coming!"

America approached the door and pointed his phone at the door, washing the light over the locks. The door rattled with each resonating knock, making it harder to unlock the locks. Jeez, was this person trying to break his door down or something?

"Hold on!" America shouted, hoping that the person on the other side of the door could hear him over the angry storm mixed in with the persistent bang_!, bang!, bang! of the_ door. He unchained the top lock and opened the door, an annoyance evident on his face and in his voice.

"You didn't have to-" America started as the door opened, but stopped dead when he didn't see anybody there. He poked his head out of the door, looking all around his porch before coming to the conclusion that there wasn't anybody there, despite hearing (and feeling) somebody knocking not even a minute ago. He shut the door with a soft click and secured the locks again.

Well, that was weird...

He knows that somebody was at the door. The way the door shook and the nonstop knocking... It would be impossible for somebody not to be there. Unease bubbled in the pit of America's stomach; _this_ is how horror movies usually start out and by the end of the night, he'd be cornered and bit and clawed at until— No, no. He stopped himself from continuing those thoughts. There had to be a logical explanation. Like... maybe it was just a of couple teenagers who didn't have anything better to do and his house just happened to be the target of their silly antics... Yeah...

He began to walk away, nearly making it into the other room before the knocking began anew. With an exasperated sigh, America wondered if he should even answer the door. They may give up and get bored after a while if he doesn't answer. Then again... he could always sneak up on them, catch them by surprise. It might even scare them enough to make sure they don't come back. That would teach them to mess with the U.S of A!

With footsteps as light as a feather, America slowly made his way over to the door, carefully not make any noise. The banging on the door intensified the closer he got to it, getting louder and louder with each hit. He could just see it now. Their mischievous faces morphing into one of shock as they realize that they've been caught in the act, running away most likely due to the fact that they didn't have another plan if they were to get caught; too smug to even think that they would. Well this will show them.

America slowly undid the locks, careful to ensure that they wouldn't click and clank like they normally do. He reached out toward the jiggling door knob, gripping it tightly. With a deep, but quiet sigh, America twisted the doorknob and swung the door open quickly.

"HA!" He yelled out, "Gotch-" The door swung out of the way completely, the porch in full view again. However, he wasn't met with the surprised faces of rambunctious teenagers like he originally thought. Instead, he was met with nothing but the pouring rain. "-aaaaa..."

There's no way those kids could be that fast. It was impossible! The knocking was still going on just before he opened it; literally seconds before! The uneasiness crept back up on him with a vengeance, unpleasant thoughts trickling into his mind against his own will. There had to be an explanation. There just had to be. Telling his panicking imagination that there was a logical explanation didn't seem to help much, however. His heart rate quickened until it felt as if it were hammering against his chest, desperate to get out.

"Whoever is messing with me better knock it off," he gulped, "or else!" The warning itself was quite vague, but mixed in with his unsteady and weak voice; it could hardly be considered a threat at all. More laughable than scary really.

America slammed the door shut and twisted the first lock, but that's as far as he got before the knocking began once more. America clenched his teeth and nearly tore the door off its hinges from the sheer force he put into opening it, a loud "_bang!" _echoed once it came in contact with the wall. Nobody was there, as expected.

Acting on impulse rather than reason, America stepped outside; into the thunderous storm and what would later be the beginning of his own personal hell.

A figure, too dark to see between the falling rain and the darkness of night itself, caught America's eye. America ran after the person without a second thought, anger glinting in his blue eyes as he gave chase to the teenager? Child? Adult? He wasn't sure who he was chasing at this point. All he knew was that he was going to give this asshole a piece of his mind once he caught them. And it won't be pretty.

Mud squelched beneath his sock-clad feet as he ran, the mushy, sludgey substance sprinkling and staining his clothing all the while making it harder to keep his balance. Rain pierced his skin, leaving red marks in its wake. The hand shielding his face did absolutely nothing as the rain pounded against the lens of his glasses, slightly obscuring his vision while his bangs drooped down in his face.

America slid around the corner, the slippery ground nearly giving out from under his feet from the sudden shift in direction. Heart booming against his chest as adrenaline coursed through his veins, America slowed to a stop as he ended up in the back yard, not sure where to go next. He took deep breaths as he looking around the seemingly empty yard, coughing slightly when he inhaled too deeply. Well that's just great. Not only did he lose the person, but he was soaked to the bone now too! Ugh! Could this stupid night get any worse?!

Thunder echoed deafeningly against his ear drums as the lightning lit up the sky in luminous, purple sheets. His clothes stuck to him uncomfortably, the cottony fabrics clinging to his body as if they were trying to become a part of his very own skin. As the adrenaline rush wore down, America became more aware of the cold wind brushing and nipping at him bitterly.

He put his hands under his armpits in a futile attempt to keep warm and made a move to leave, but something stopped him in his tracks.

The sound of a rustling bush.

Eyes darted to the array of bushes that resided several feet away from where he stood. A single leaf fell from a bush as it rustled again. A slight smirk slid on America's face.

Gotcha.

Moving in swift motions, America silently stalked toward the bushes, eyes trained on the bush the rustling came from. He swallowed the lump in his throat and a thought left his mind as quickly as it came. _What _would_ he do if somebody was there?_

He stopped a few feet away, distancing himself from the bush in case the person decided to jump out at him with a knife or some sort of weapon (can never be too careful...).

From the depths of the bushes, a pair of eyes- icy blue, nearly white eyes- eerily glowed along with the lightning. And although he only saw them for nearly a second, America froze as a sudden feeling of dread came crashing down on him. Those eyes… He'd seen them before; he just knew it. The glint in the unnaturally colored orbs gave him a mixture of panic, dread, anxiety, and fear, all wrapped up in one. In that moment, he decided that he didn't _want _to see the face that went along with the eyes. That if he did, something truly, truly horrible will come of it.

The air grew colder and the elements above harmonized together tauntingly, menacingly. Rain poured down even harder than before and just as the lightning decided to make itself known again— make those _eyes _known again— he ran. He barely registered that he was even moving until he felt the rain slap against his skin angrily, almost as if it were punishing him for running. A bolt of lightning struck somewhere in the distance as the thunder roared with rage.

He sensed a presence from behind him, following in pursuit, but he didn't dare turn around for even a second and look. He made it to the door as just barely secured the lock before the door began rattling, the door knob jiggling and twisting frantically from the other side.

America brought a trembling hand up to his face as panic-filled tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill at any second. The door shook and groaned with each pull and hit that was delivered onto it, but stopped as quickly as it came.

All was silent save for America's heavy breathing that bordered on full on erratic. Everything was still, unmoving, blissful. All good things must come to an end, however.

BANG!

America let out a choked yelp as something came at the door full force, the resonating sound echoed through the house. It happened again. And again. And again. Each time, America jumped and shrunk farther into the darkness of the house, away from the door. It wasn't until he heard a loud crack that the gears in his brain kicked in and screamed at him to run! To go find protection! Go, go, go!

He blindly ran into the living room, stumbling on his wet and muddy socks along the way before running into the couch, hitting his legs against the arm rest that would have hurt if he wasn't so panic-stricken at the moment. He caught himself and began looking around in the dark frantically, searching blindly for something,_anything _that he could use to fight off this person_— no. _This was no person. This was a monster. A truly horrible monster who wanted nothing more but to _hurt_, smiling tauntingly as it barred its glittery fangs at him while he cowered in some corner, bringing a giant claw up slowly and swiping down to render him helpless just before sinking its teeth— OH GOD HE HAD TO FIND A WEAPON RIGHT NOW!

The whole house shook and groaned and creaked as each hit at the door had more and more force behind it then before. Pictures that hung on the walls shook rapidly, hitting against the wall with a repetitive thunk! The lights began flickering on and off and on and off, making it just as difficult to see anything at all as the dark does. America gripped his hair in despair; panic raced through his blood and made it hard to think of anything other than just getting away, but having nowhere to go.

"Go away!" He yelled out, a choked sob escaping his lips. "Go away! Go away! GO AWAY!" But still, the banging continued, mockingly becoming louder and louder with each word he screamed out in hysterical manner. He heard a loud crash come from another room, sounding like glass breaking, and he instinctively grabbed the largest thing by him; a lamp. He ripped it of its outlet forcefully as he distanced himself farther and farther away from the room, from the door. It shook wildly in his trembling grasp, nearly slipping out of his hands from the sweat that drenched his palms.

America cowered next to the couch, nothing more than a quivering, sobbing mess. He unlocked his phone and called the first person that popped up, not even bothering to look at the name in his panic. He brought the device up to his ear and covered his other with his hand; a failed attempt to block out the chaos that was happening all around him. Tears threatened to roll down his cheeks as he waited for somebody to pick up, to help him somehow.

Ring...

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Ring...

_Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!_

Ring...

BANG! BANG! BANG! CRACK—

"Do you have any idea what time it is?!"

And just like that, everything came to a halt.

The lights flickered one last time before staying on, the house stood still once again, and the banging had completely stopped. All was silent, normal; as if nothing happened at all. America set the lamp down beside him, but still close enough in case he needs it, and ran his hand down his face, wiping at the tears that blurred his vision.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end startled him, having forgotten that he even called someone in the first place. He recognizes the voice instantaneously; the distinct accent that belonged to none other than—

"E-England..." America cursed at the crack in his voice.

"America?" The cold tone the other previously used immediately turned softer, "Is everything okay?"

America sobbed in relief, "No! It was horrible! There was a huge thunderstorm and the power went off and there was knocking at the door when nobody was there and something was chasing me and the whole house started shaking and something was pounding at the door, trying to get in and it just wouldn't_ stop _and the lights began flickering and those eyes_-_"

"America! America, calm down! I can barely understand a word you're saying!"

America took a deep breath a proceeded to explain everything that happened leading up to the other answering the phone. Luckily he managed to calm himself down the more he talked, his voice only shaken a little bit.

There was a beat of silence after America finished before the other nation spoke.

"Have you been watching horror movies again?"

"What? No."

"Come now, America. The only time you make such ludicrous stories is after you've indulged in some kind of horror game or movie."

"I mean, I played a zombie shooting game earlier, but-"

"Well that explains it," England cut him off, "You scared yourself silly like you usually do."

"No, I didn't. I'm not making this stuff up!"

"You know for a fact that every time you watch or play something even remotely scary you end up freaking yourself out and imaging things that aren't there. If memory serves, you called me a couple days ago and went on and on about how that serial killer with the hockey mask was going to get you after you watched the movie and you didn't stop until you cried yourself to sleep."

"Okay, first of all, I wasn't crying. You probably just had a shitty connection or something. And second of all, this really did happen! Why would I make it up?"

"You expect me to believe that as soon as I picked up, that everything just miraculously stopped?"

"Yes, because that _is _what happened!"

America heard England let out a deep sigh before he continued to speak.

"Look. It's too early in the morning for this. No monsters or serial killers or things that go bump in the night are going to get you; _you're fine_. It's nothing more than your imagination. Lay off the horror for a while, okay? It would be in your best interest,"_And mine, _was the unspoken addition,"Now I'm going back to bed since I have to be up in a few hours."

"But-"

"No 'buts', America. Some people are actually busy and can't lie around all day. Just try to go to sleep and you'll be fine by tomorrow. Good night."

And with that, the other end of the line went dead.

America clicked the end button before staring down at his phone dejectedly. How come England didn't believe him? Sure, he may get scared from time to time, but it's never been this bad and he of all people should know that...

Sighing in defeat, America got up on shaky legs, gripping the lamp tightly as he looked around the empty house for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing. America cautiously walked through the house, prepared to swing at anything that may jump out and attack him. He swung the door to his room open and held the lamp out in front of him like a sword while he fumbled around to turn the light on. America let out a breath when he saw the empty room and set the lamp off to the side; He would put that back tomorrow. He discarded his soiled clothing in exchange for fresh ones, feeling less dirty.

Then came the challenge of shutting the lights off and making it to his bed _before_ a monster grabbed him and dragged him under the bed. Faster than he ever moved before, he flicked the switch off and ran to the bed, diving under the covers. He settled down and wrapped it around him, making sure not to leave any inch of his body uncovered.

After what seemed like forever, America finally drifted off to sleep.

Hours ticked by, the storm giving off its last rumbles and flashes before sauntering off. The moon shone brightly through the cracks of the clouds, bathing the room in a faint light. America snored on lightly, a little dribble of drool slipping past his part lips and forming a small puddle on his pillow. In his unconscious state, it was no wonder why he didn't hear the distinct sound of scratching coming from the other side of the room.

_Cht, cht, cht._

A sharp, pointed tail brushed against the wall behind it as it swayed from side to side carelessly, leaving shallow gashes against the paint with each flick. And connected to that tail, sat a huddled figure, nothing more than a black mass of a shadow that nearly blended in with the darkness of the night. Slowly, it rose from the depths of the shadows, standing to its full height. It walked over to the bed, alternating between showing itself and blending in with the rest of the darkness before coming to a stop, right next to the sleeping blond. The entity's soulless eyes bore into America's closed ones as it rocked from side to side from where it stood.

It stared and stared and stared.

It wasn't until the sky began to gleam a dull red-orange color as the sun peeked out from behind the horizon to introduce a brand new day that the shadow figure moved. It lifted a large, claw-like hand and reached out towards America. It ran its fingers from the crown of golden hair down to his neck, taking time to trace over the curve of his eyes, nose, and lips in an almost loving manner.

As America shifted from the touch, the figure drew its hand back and dissolved into the air; gone without a trace.


End file.
